


The Depths to Which we Sink

by Harukami



Category: Bleach, In Nomine
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Soul Society might fit in with an In Nomine perspective.</p><p>Originally posted to LJ on Oct. 3, 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Depths to Which we Sink

Dominic comes up behind him nearly silently. Because it was Yves' idea, he has done his best to avoid commenting on the new arrangement, but it is his role to question, to probe, to find out information and there is only so long he can wait.

"I know," Yves says.

Stillness but for the sound of rustling cloth, and then Dominic moves into view, cloaked and hidden from Heaven's Light. "Yves, they're barely better than demons."

"I know," Yves repeats again, softly. "But they're humans, and not damned. Even if it's 'barely', it's still better."

"How--" Dominic had to stop, draw a slow musical breath, and recall himself before he can continue. "How can you say that this is better than it was before? At least before, the dead were reincarnated, could work towards perfection again. You're Destiny; how can you justify this half-hearted eternity? Hell, Heaven, or -- _this_?"

Yves gives him a small smile. "Even in Soul Society," he says, "there is a chance to reach perfection. And the demons cannot reach them there. Nothing can enter or leave Soul Society except that which was once human."

"Is it enough?"

"When the final day comes," Yves says. "They'll yet be safe, and still have a chance."

***

Rukia likes to keep things black or white; she tells Ichigo that there is Hell, and there is Soul Society, and the truly evil make it to Hell. Soul Society is for everyone else.

But she can't forget the one time she went to claim a soul and saw its eyes open, saw it turn its face up, saw a light shine down that she couldn't _hear_ in for all the music, and then gone. She'd been punished for failure to retrieve a soul, and had kept her lips tightly sealed, a thin white line in her face.

She holds the memory to her chest, a seed not yet begun to blossom.


End file.
